


The Face That You Hide

by DarkEleni



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #TrickOrJaq2019, Dream Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Jaqarya, Mixture Of GoT Universe And Religion With Celtic Faith, Older Man/Younger Woman, Samhain, Sex Under A Weirwood Tree, Shameless Smut, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkEleni/pseuds/DarkEleni
Summary: "A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell. And I'll never bake a cake again."When Arya agrees to participate in a ritual that reveals the identity of her soulmate, the result happens to be deadly serious.Written for the *Trick or Jaqen?* [Jaqen H'ghar/Arya Stark Halloween challenge] by ewinofthelake. (It's a very late post. But I wanted to share it anyway.)





	The Face That You Hide

**Author's Note:**

> So thrilled for this challenge! It's only a two-shot but a great opportunity to get some ideas into it which I had for the ship but sadly never fit into my other stories (although, half of this chapter is smut but whatever). Hope you enjoy it! :)))
> 
> I once saw a German documentary where Samhain got a bit explained and it also mentioned a ritual where seven maidens bake a magical cake that allows them to meet their future husband in a rather naughty dream (however, they wake up before the actual consummation happens). Obviously, this is where the idea for this story was born. I simply changed it a bit and added some stuff. Also, I think the maidens had to eat the cake before going to sleep but I changed it into not allowing it because the spell breaks otherwise and because of a joke in the second chapter. I'm no expert in Celtic religion and this was purely written for fun - but if someone IS an expert, please share your knowledge with us. :DD
> 
> The remark "Sleep is the kin of death" is kind of a reference I used from "The Bear and the Nightingale" by Katherine Arden (the first book of her "Winternight"-trilogy).  
It's practically this scene:  
"Sleep is cousin to death, Vasya", [Morozko] murmured over her head. "And both are mine."  
I really liked that moment and just wanted to use some reference here. :D
> 
> Title and name of the chapter are from "Through The Mirror" by Beyond The Black.

"Thanks. I hate it."

Arya turned back to continue her training. She already drew her bow but Sansa stepped forward and blocked her view on the target. With hands on her hips and a frown that showed her disapproval.

"This is important to me", Sansa stated.

_Everything you want is important_, Arya thought bitterly but bit her tongue to prevent speaking. Instead she raised an eyebrow.

Her sister breathed out. "Look. I am aware you think of it as a stupid girls play. But it was something I cherished back in King's Landing when Margaery showed me."

"Despite your false believe in me loathing anything a fine maiden does", Arya said, her tune filled with mockery, "I doubt your ceremony makes sense at all."

"I haven't done the ritual since", Sansa confessed in a small voice, "but now that Margaery died I feel like I should honor her this way."

"Through _what_?", Arya snapped. "Making a cake and then dancing outside, without clothes, around some tree?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't imagine Margaery talked you into this in first place."

"Yes, fine. I wore my corset." A blush appeared on her cheeks at the memory. She felt too exposed, even compared to Margaery and her handmaidens who freed themselves from every piece of clothing. "It worked as well. You can keep yours on, of course."

_I don't wear corsets__, Sansa._ The younger Stark spread her arms. "We're in the _North_. You want to kill us with a cold? Try it with Sweetsleep. Much faster and more comfortable."

Suddenly, Sansa began to smirk. "Afraid of what your dream reveals?"

"No", her counterpart answered. "The concept is stupid. All that trouble to get a glimpse on the person one will marry-"

"And who is your kindred spirit", Sansa added. A detail not to be forgotten. "Else the dreams would have warned me about Ramsay."

"Who you _did_ marry, by the way."

Sansa shrugged her shoulders. "I am a widow. Maybe I will marry again?" There was no hint of sympathy for her late husband. And why should there be any? It was _her_ who led the hounds to Ramsay and walked away with a smile as they mangled him. "If only you read more stories and listened to the songs! It often works with the third time."

_Here I thought you abandoned to believe in all those tales. _Arya wanted to reply the moment Bran arrived. Their brother appeared rather observing. Certainly, he knew about Sansa's plan. "The ritual is a well-kept secret by House Tyrell. It calms the Children of the Forest and all of the gods giving away the riches of nature as gifts to us."

"You want to tell me the reason behind their green gardens is that, instead of the warmer region they lived, they make a fool out of themselves for a fantasy?" Arya doubted that either the old gods or the new found appreciation in a harvest ritual that served maidens to meet their future husband in a dream. "I see why it might amuse the gods, I confess that."

"Arya", her sister stated, "I know you think I only asked you because I needed participants. But that is only the half of it. I wanted you to be a part of it because you are my sister. And I wronged you in the past. Excluding you and being ashamed of you-"

"Now _that_ is a way to convince me", Arya mumbled in between. Which first earned her a warning look from her sister. Then, an expression of apology as the older Stark realized how unfairly she behaved.

Arya, too, knew that she had not been the best example as a sibling; always played tricks and causing trouble. She had envied Sansa because everything that was expected seemed to come easy for her. Today, she was not sure if she truly wanted to ever switch places with her. But she sensed that Sansa tried to build a connection. So, she replied: "I guess I can help you."

Sansa smiled and hugged her little sister - something all of the remaining Stark siblings still needed to get used to from her. "I appreciate it, thank you", she said and released Arya from the embrace. "You won't regret it. It is a lot of fun."

"Mark my words: We catch a cold and die", Arya declared. "Blue lips and frostbitten limbs."

"The dream will make up for it."

_As if it would work. I do not plan to marry and doubt there is someone for me in first place._ Her mind wandered to the memory of an iron coin and faces on a wall, followed by words making her brave again and a feeling of longing that began to bloom before betrayal shattered everything that has ever been. _Nothing will happen. Fear cuts deeper than swords._

Arya breathed out, gathering her thoughts as she watched the exhaled air becoming visible as it cooled down. "Well", she tried to think of something supportive, "might be entertaining to talk with said person then."

Much to her surprise, Sansa blinked. She seemed to ponder whether to tell Arya something in particular or not. Obviously, she decided against it as her smile widened. "Yes, _talking_. We can at least hope for that." Before Arya could question that remark, she asked: "You told me you worked in a kitchen once. Have you ever baked a cake?"

Arya cleared her throat. "The pies I made were not exactly for eating. Although, Walder Frey surely thought they were to die for."

Sansa only stared at her. "Do I _have_ to ask?"

* * *

"Seems like we depleted our stock on flour with that."

They laughed as they mused each other. Sansa convinced Gilly to take a part in it. While the former wildling did her best to settle any upcoming dispute between the sisters, she failed to prevent the rather violent fight as they threw various ingredients at each other. All of them looked like powdered actors and their clothes were graced with it as well.

"Good thing we need to undress later anyway."

"It wouldn't be that bad if Arya had not sneezed half of the flour away."

"You held up the herbs against my nose on purpose!"

"Because you did not watch out that no eggshells land in the bowl!"

Gilly chuckled as she listened to those two. They were as different as night and day. Yet, one sister needed the other. It felt endearing to watch them at their tries to get along. Gilly only heard stories how they struggled with each other. Here and now, they almost looked like siblings teasing the other.

"Why did you agree to join this?"

Arya's voice brought Gilly out of the wanderings of her mind. As she answered, she smiled fondly. "I see nothing dreadful. I know that I will meet Sam in the dream." She started to gather some herbs to strew them onto the cake as Sansa brought their finished work. "And I like to please the gods if the ritual helps the meadows to bloom. We will need it after such a harsh winter."

A knife flashed in the glim light of the candles. Followed by Sansa's demand to hold on. "Arya, what are you doing? We can't just eat the cake."

The younger Stark blinked. "For real? All that work and we can't have a piece before going outside?"

"If we destroy it before we go to sleep, the gods definitely won't reveal anything to us."

Arya tried her best to rule her face as she followed her sister outside. "You must really take a liking to your so-called _kindred spirit_ if you value the ritual so much. He probably loves to discuss everything - just like you."

Much to her surprise, Sansa tilted her head for a moment. "I got the feeling he does not consider himself to be much of a talker."

"Then you better watch out that it isn't bloody Hound", Arya jested as she remembered the battle in the inn. "Apparently, talkers just make him thirsty."

This was the first and only time Arya saw her sister lose a part of her grace and tumble over her own feet.

* * *

"Ready to die?"

Sansa glared at her sister. A complain over her attitude crossed her mind but she decided not to show Arya how her teeth would clack when trying to speak. She knew how unpleasant the cold felt but determination offered enough will to endure it. The night air appeared to be less of a problem for Gilly. Compared to her, the Stark sisters were obviously haunted by shakings through the coolness.

Earlier, Sansa and Bran talked about the power of this night and why it was that special. _The border between the world of the living and the death is nothing but a thin veil. The night of the eleventh new moon invites higher magic to dance with us. In exchange of worship and sacrifices, the gods allow us to gain further knowledge_, they explained to her.

Arya thought of her time in Braavos. Two other acolythes exchanged whispers over this feast. In some tales, the Many Faced God allowed the death to rise again. One night for the fallen ones to take revenge before the Death God demanded back what already belonged to him. Many gifts were brought to the House of Black and White that day. The folk of the city plead for luck and the mercy of the decedents. She remembered how even the courtesans offered themselves to the order. How the Moonshadow blinked at Arya as she told the girl about a different and more alluring kind of death. _Sleep is the kin of death_, one of the masters told her as she asked if such behavior is even allowed in the house.

Not that she planned to participate, despite some suggestions coming from the Veiled Lady as they crossed paths. That day, the Waif turned even harsher in combat training than she usually was. Arya's body was painted with cuts and bruises after the session. A tiredness accompanied her that she hadn't felt since she began with the apprenticeship. Yet, she felt nothing of it as she woke up in the middle of the night for another Game of Faces.

_My thoughts? You want to hear them?_, she hissed at Jaqen as she failed to keep up the story of the identity she created. When she lost herself in her own lies, her skin felt the punishment of that damnable stick. It was not harsh, not like the first time they played. Just the usual game. But the tension between them shifted that night. A frustration grew inside Arya and a part of her whispered that the man before her felt the same. _Are you that cruel that you rather torture me than spending this night with one of the courtesans?_

First, she felt a surge of victory. Because he could not talk himself out of it. Then, he used the stick to force up her chin, making her look into his eyes. Any distance between them was gone and she blinked as she saw his anger. There was an undone and almost desperate tune in it. But before she realized the answer, he called her a _blind girl_; though she regained her sight already.

The memories kept Arya occupied as she imitated whatever movements Sansa and Gilly were doing whilst dancing around the Weirwood tree. It was a strange ritual, supposed to strengthen the bond of the women who begged the gods for a vision. Her sister assured them that no person saw them. And who would? Who walked outside by choice when the winter air intented to cover every part of the body with a kiss of death?

"That's enough", Sansa said as soon as it became unbearable. All of them rushed to where they left their clothes. They started to put on their shoes because every step forced their feet into the snow. They barely made it back inside because of how much they shivered. A fire was already prepared. Together with furs to get warm as soon as possible.

"Thank you", Sansa said once more as the numbness in their limbs faded and got replaced with the pain of warming up again. "I know you found it stupid and it probably was uncomfortable for you. I know it was strange for me when I simply witnessed it at first."

"I survived worst", she mumbled back.

Gilly was the first one to retire as she went back to Samwell and her son. Sansa followed soon. "Don't stay up all night", she chuckled as Arya sat up. "Else you miss it."

_Fear cuts deeper than swords_, Arya reminded herself as she nodded. There was nothing to be afraid of. There would be no vision. Sansa probably dreamt of her childhood fantasy - a knight in shining armor with endless songs about his bravery. A desire that crept itself into a dream that night. There was nothing to fear.

Nothing and _no one_.

* * *

_Leaves laid underneath her._

_Her eyes were still closed when she heard the rustle as she moved her body. Carefully. Only to support herself, avoiding to press her front onto the ground beneath her. To her surprise, she found herself without any clothes. Her naked skin met the cool air and she asked herself how she ended up here. In the back of her mind, reason told her she was dreaming._

_Slowly, she dared to open her eyes. Nothing. No castle or cabin in sight. Only weirwood trees surrounded her. With their white barks and blood-red leaves. And the faces carved in them. In the valleys of their features gathered the crimson tree sap._

_Behind her, Arya sensed someone. She wanted to turn, to ask questions and hiss warnings. Instead, she gasped as the stranger covered her body with his own, caging her in between the ground and his frame. But she felt not like a prisoner. There was more freedom in it than she ever remembered. Like one of those dreams of running free with a pack. Unbound and wild. The heat of his body drew her closer and she pressed her back against his chest, hearing the hitch in his breathing as it became unsteady._

_Arya's hands fisted the leaves underneath her until her knuckles turned white. She wanted _more_. The peaks of her breasts hardened and became more sensitive as they brushed over the leaves. She gazed at the trees once more. Only to see how the sap ran all over the faces. A shining wet reflection of what she felt between her legs. The skin on skin contact with the stranger caused her cunt to _weep_._

_"Please", she murmured without thinking. Her tune getting more impatient, more _urgent_._

_In return, the stranger chuckled._

_Her eyes widened as she recognized the familiar tune of his voice. She _knew_ that sound. A rare occasion. But one that now caused her heart to jump against her breastbone. In joy. In fear. In _anticipation_._

_She wanted to tild her head but he moved in a way that forced her head into the leaves beneath her. From that angle, it proved to be rather difficult to catch a glance of that one behind her. As if it was his intention._

_Later, she would smirk over the irony of it. Over him not letting her see his face._

_Even if she did not see his face, she felt the strands of his hair falling forward as they tickled her back and shoulders. This place even allowed her to smell a hint of his scent. Ginger and cloves._

_"This can't be", she mumbled._

_He showed no mercy in answering her. His damned mouth grazed her ear; the tease of his teeth made her bite back a moan. His hands made sure to trace every contur of her body. As if to memorize the feel of her, to claim what remained out of reach._

_It was like he summoned all of his control to hold back._

_Something went wrong. _This can't be true. Not after all that happened between us. And-

_Her thoughts found a sudden end as she moved against him. Out of curiosity. Because it was a dream and there existed no consequence. Although, his gasp would remain in her memory and haunt her forever. The fading of his demeanour tasted better than any revenge scheme. She wanted him to _break_._

_A monstrous and lecherous desire of hers. Yet, she cared no bit when she grinded herself against his cock. He was hard like iron and hot like fire. "A girl is reckless", he hissed out and she only chuckled at the twitch of his length._

_"This is a dream", she returned, completely forgetting at the moment _how_ it was triggered in first place. "Nothing is real."_

_She found both of her hands held together over her head and she sank deeper onto the ground. Her legs spread themselves as his fingers delved between her utter lips, parting her folds as his touch taunted the dampness he discovered. "Does this feel like a dream, lovely girl?", he asked as the head of his cock slid into her._

_Arya abandoned all dignity then and pushed herself back, crying out as she felt him deep inside her. His groan sounded like a sweet victory. "A girl feels rather _filled_ with momentary pressings", she panted._

_The corners of his mouth tugged up mischievously. "Does she?" He was sheathed to the hilt inside her, his other hand grabbing her waist to hinder her from chasing any more friction. A punishment. Denying her the gratification of any movement._

_Arya bit her lip. She would _not_ beg. Not again. No matter much she leaked onto his length, feeling her arousal drip down her thighs, probably making the leaves stick onto her skin. "Fiend", she spat._

_"Is this a way to talk to an old friend?"_

_"You're not my friend. A friend would-"_

_"-help you?", he finished her sentence before she could, annoying her simply out of principle. His vicious hand wandered to the place above their joining, playing with her already throbbing clit. "Help was not promised, lovely girl", the light touch of his fingers turned determined, "only death."_

_Arya felt her core clench around him; her mouth opened in a silent scream as she rode out her climax. She had never felt anything more intense. How he gathered enough control not to move his body was beyond her. Her walls kept convulsing around his hardness, begging for even more. Even though her voice felt too proud for making demands, her body felt no shame at all._

_As the grip on her hands lost its strength, she took a deep breath as she calmed down from her peak and turned them in such a way that she was on top now, facing him. Of course she only accomplished such a stunt because Jaqen _let her_ but she decided not to dwell much about it. Especially now that she had him under her. Instead of a smirk and a deceiving gleam in his eyes, his expression was full of wonder and lust and something she did not dare to name._

_"This is a dream", she tried to talk some sense back into her. She spoke with closed eyes as if this changed anything. "A dream", she mumbled as she leaned down, their mouths barely touching. Underneath her hand, placed on his chest, she sensed a heartbeat. Wild and fast and definitely not belonging to a dead man._

_By the old gods and the new, she never wanted to hear his voice so much than in this very moment._

_A tempestuous need made her run her lips and teeth along his jawline, slowly travelling down until she heard his sharp inhale, his hips raising for a mere second before his composure found its control. She wanted to laugh over the achievement, over the vivid feel of his stubbles against her skin, over how much he longed for her touch that his calm indifferance faded away like melting snow._

_Before she realized what__ she was doing, her caresses traveled down on his body, driven by the changed sound of his breathing. And she couldn't stop herself as she reached a hardened nipple and traced her tongue over it. Much to her dismay, he suppressed the groan quite well. However, one of his hands stroked over her body with the plain desire to touch her. She gazed up and saw his closed eyes, the relaxed and yet tensed expression._ He is enjoying this_, she understood. __It encouraged her to continue her way. Meanwhile, her hands explored the muscles and scars in the region of his abdomen. If she wasn't too afraid of waking up at any moment, she would demand of him to tell her everything about his past, of all the things he never spoke about, all the secrets he never shared with anyone else. But this would probably take more than a simple dream._

_Breathing heavily herself, heart pounding in her ears, she wrapped her hand around his cock, trying to form a fist around his girth. She blinked in fascination as she felt him. Warm and pulsing and covered in her wetness. Remaining inside during her previous orgasm left him coated in her arousal. Arya tried to remember something obscene which the courtesans whispered over advantages of such work when not done dry. But she already moved her hand in long, slow strokes, getting an affirmation of doing not that bad by the soft way he said her name._

_She focused on her newfound fixation. Earlier, he had meant to tease her, meant to take all control. Now, she discovered the power in this game. How, according to her ministrations, his whole body tensed and the mask of his control slowly broke into pieces._

_The drop of his seed on the head of his cock had tempted her long enough as she leaned down to catch it with her tongue._

_In that moment, Arya knew she would literally kill to hear the moan Jaqen released one more time._

_"You like this." She needed to repress her gloating. Even more so when her words earned her a warning gaze from him. Whatever threat he intented to bestow upon her got overshadowed by desire because he made no excuse for her claim. Not right away._

_Only when he was about to finally say something in return, she made a bold move and her mouth welcomed his cock._

_Any remark was forgotten. Despite the assumption of expecting such a move from her, he was still taken by surprise. Overwhelmed enough not to lecture her when she took him in too deep, far too deep for her first try as he hit the back of her throat, and she backed away to cough. But a failing never hindered her to get what she wanted and so she tried again. Slowly and more careful this time._

_His hand tangled itself in her hair, leading her with actions rather than words, to show her. The more pleasant speed allowed her to get used to it and to learn what both of them enjoyed. The weight of him on her tongue mixed with the mingled taste from both of them had her moaning around him. His head fell back with a groan and one of her hands started to touch herself, utterly delighted to see how much he yearned for this._

_Her investment in his pleasure rather than simply getting what she wanted surprised her._

_Even if this was a dream, she felt a desire to make him feel good, to satisfy him and to show him what he lost the day he let her go. Her hand kept stroking him at the base where her mouth couldn't reach, her tongue slid over the head and she started to suck the glans. And, gods, the knowledge of savoring his reactions without potential consequences held assets and drawbacks altogether. No shame could bind her the next day. Yet, all of this would be nothing more than a reverie._

_For a moment, she pondered over the strength of this dream as she felt him spending himself into her mouth. She tasted his seed, warm and salty and actually quite pleasant for her, as he emptied himself down her throat. She backed away to catch some air and to lick off the remnants of what she was unable to swallow right away._

_Her mouth crooked up into a grin as she saw him now: breathing heavily with blinking eyes and trying to find a focus again. When his eyes found hers, his mask was undone and she felt speechless at the unexpected emotions she saw in him._

_Suddenly, his control and strength returned and he lifted her up until their faces were close enough for a kiss._

_An amazed gasp escaped her lips as she felt the way he kissed her. Unguarded and full of need. The sensation was soft and demanding at the same time. His mouth wandered down her neck and teased the sensitive skin on her neck, probably leaving marks if only this wasn't a dream. Roles reversed now as he caught the bud of her breast between his lips and her hands grabbed his hair. She wanted him again. Like this. Right now._

_"Patience, lovely girl", he hushed with a smirk as she started to writhe._

_Arya already wanted to complain but then he let them fall back onto the ground. Though, he raised her up again, placing her spread legs over his face. "What are you-", she found out the answer herself as she felt the first stripe of his tongue over her aching nub. _

_Behind her now closed eyes, instead of a blackness, she saw a white field of pleasure. He kept her close, even as she tried to balance her weight onto her legs, not allowing her to deprive him of her cunt. His lips and tongue were thirsty for her taste and her back arched as her body gave in to the feeling._

_It took little to no time for her to reach her next orgasm. She would have felt shame but his mouth drew in her clit and kept fondling it during her climax until she screamed his name and moved her hips to the dance between his face and her core._

_She was too worn-out than to grasp how he managed it sit up again, their faces on the same level once more. Only when her breathing calmed down, his hand reached out to stroke over her cheek; his eyes mesmerized as if she was the most precious sight he ever saw._

_"A man missed you", he spoke and it was a recognition for both of them._

_Around them, the wind started to howl. The rustling of the leaves broke through the silence as if the wind itself spoke an answer that seemed unexplainable with words. A slight gaze sideways and Arya saw that the faces of the weirwood trees began to smile. A calm expression but one placed in mockery._

_"This is a dream", she reminded herself again. And she swore she felt a surge of anger move through Jaqen. "Just a dream."_

_"A girl is lying to herself."_

_A part of her knew it all felt too real. But she found no other assumption for what happened here. Until a raven flew over them and gifted her with a vision of the events earlier that night. Of Sansa and Gilly and her in the kitchen and then the dance around the weirwood tree._

_Slowly, she gazed back at Jaqen._

_"Seven hells", she whispered._

_"Blind as always", he mumbled as if she should have known. "You have always been a man's downfall."_

_"No", she kept saying as she started to understand. "This can't be. It's not real. A dream, a game-"_

_"Arya", he tried to call but his voice faded away, though there remained a terror in it he hid almost perfectly. "This man", he stopped here and then decided to end all of the plays, "I love-"_

_"No!" She had to stop him before he said it. Before he ruined both of them completely. She already turned into a wreck by the mere thought of him confessing such a thing to her. And she could not allow herself to fall for this weakness of hers. "No, no, no..."_

_She felt as if her body left the realm, as if time and space started to work differently and then she was flying and falling._

_"NO!"_

* * *

Arya startled with a scream that awoke everyone in Winterfell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think! :)))


End file.
